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Skipping meals was not a regular practice in Bruce Banner’s life.
Being a scientists and having seven different phds, Bruce was well aware of the dangers, especially for people like him, that come from not eating enough.
So, he was constantly reminding the others to ensure they ate all three meals and drank their daily requirement of water.
On this particular day, skipping one meal would end up to be the smartest thing Bruce had done all week.
For a number of weeks since their last mission, Bruce had been designing upgrades to his friends’ costumes that were tailored to each of their different abilities, which would allow for more efficient fighting.
He was closer than ever to finishing his work, so when Tony called his phone to tell him that Thor had cooked them an Asgardian dinner, Bruce politely declined, opting to tear into a protein bar instead.
He decided that in the morning, he would allow himself a hearty breakfast to make up for any lost nutrients and calories, so as to appease to The Other Guy’s monster appetite.
“Not like we have much going on tomorrow anyways,” he muttered to himself as he continued working.
Oh, how very wrong he was.
—————————————-
“Dr. Banner.”
The familiar voice which could only belong to JARVIS slowly pulled Bruce from his sleep. He slowly blinked his eyes, which threatened to close once more, open enough to see the digital clock he kept on his bedside table.
5:00 A.M..
By the time Bruce had finished in the lab and gotten himself into bed, it was a little past midnight. Why was JARVIS waking him so early when the AI knew had hadn’t gotten much sleep?
“J’RVIS?” Bruce responded, his voice slurring with exhaustion.
“I am terribly sorry to wake you so early, Dr. Banner, but I must inform you that Mr. Stark and the others have all come down with a severe bout of food poisoning.”
Bruce was wide awake now.
“Food poisoning?” he repeated in shock. “Do you know what caused it?”
“The most likely cause I can find is from yesterday’s dinner, which I noted that you did not partake in. You are the only unaffected person in the tower.”
“Of course I am…” Bruce groaned, rubbing his eyes. “JARVIS, you are aware that I am no-“
“-not that kind of doctor,” the AI finished. “I am well aware of this, Doctor, as you have said so approximately 37 times since you’ve began residing in the tower. However, you are a man of science, and the others trust you more than anyone in times such as this. For the safety of everyone, I urge you to respond.”
Bruce scoffed. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure whether to praise Tony for programming JARVIS to be quick-witted or to let The Other Guys loose on him for it.
Either way, JARVIS was right.
“You got me there. Where should I start?”
“Mr. Odinson is currently experiencing a bout of nausea and requires immediate assistance,” JARVIS informed him.
Bruce nodded and began walking to the elevator, only to pause just before he could press the button.
“JARVIS,” he called. “By ‘Mr. Odinson’, you do mean Thor, right?”
“Yes, Dr. Banner. Mr. Loki refused to allow me to refer to him by any name other than Loki,” JARVIS confirmed.
Bruce thanked JARVIS and let himself sigh in relief.
Loki had only recently moved into the tower, and, although he was much better now that he was on their side, Bruce wasn’t as close to him as he was to his older brother, and he wouldn’t exactly be excited to tend to Loki first thing in the morning.
As the elevator brought him to the floor where Thor’s room was located, Bruce asked JARVIS to let him know when any of the other Avengers woke up or needed him.
After a few seconds, the metal door slid open, and Bruce was met with the sickening sound of retching.
He let his pace quicken into a jog and stopped short right outside of Thor’s bedroom.
He knocked twice.
“Thor?” he called, hoping for a response. “It’s Bruce. Can I come in?”
The Asgardian heir only managed cough as an answer, and Bruce winced at the sound.
“JARVIS, unlock the door please,” Bruce ordered.
“Right away, Doctor.”
He heard a click, and Bruce rushed to Thor’s side.
Thor was keeled over a small garbage can which he kept by the corner of his bed.
The stench made it clear that he was unwell.
Bruce felt a pang of pity for his friend, as he had never seen Thor look so vulnerable before.
The scientist placed a comforting hand on Thor’s back, gently rubbing circles into it as Thor coughed up saliva and bile.
“…Banner?”
Thor’s voice was scratchy and hoarse from the effort of vomiting. He seemed confused and almost…scared.
“I’m here, buddy. You’re gonna be alright.”
“What’s… What’s happening to me?”
Bruce sighed with sympathy.
“This is what we call Food Poisoning. It happens because you’ve eaten something that isn’t good for you, so your body is trying to protect you by forcing you to throw it up.”
Thor nodded, taking a deep breath and letting himself fully sit on the wooden floor.
Bruce continued, “I need you to think back to dinner. Did anyone say there was something unusual about it?”
The blonde sat in a thoughtful silence, his eyes glassy with fatigue and unshed tears, and Bruce watched as a thought dawned on him.
“I made an Asgardian meal… I used the potatoes in the back of Stark’s frozen box…”
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand.
“Thor…I’d those potatoes look a little more green than they do on Asgard?”
Thor looked up at Bruce in horror as the truth dawned on him. “Banner, did I incur this ailment upon our friends?”
Bruce moved his hand to Thor’s shoulder.
“It’s not your fault, Thor. It was your first time cooking on Earth. We don’t have non-expiring potatoes here. You couldn’t have been expected to know that,” he said comfortingly.
Thor shook his head sadly, but the action only caused him to become nauseous once more.
When Thor’s heaving had subsided, Bruce placed the trash can aside and helped Thor back into his bed.
The Asgardian had a lot more muscle than Bruce did, and Bruce thought that the Hulk might have been better suited for dragging nearly unconscious teammates off the floor, but he managed to get Thor comfortably beneath his comforter.
As Thor began to relax, Bruce took the trash can to the nearest bathroom and cleaned the mess.
It was by no means an enjoyable task, but he knew it was necessary, so he grit his teeth and got it over with.
When the smell of vomit was almost entirely removed, Bruce returned and placed the can within the immediate reach of Thor, in case of emergencies.
“Get some sleep, okay?” he told Thor. “I’ll come back with some water later on.”
He turned to exit the room, but a sudden grip on his forearm stopped him.
“Banner,” Thor beckoned weakly, “you must apologize on my behalf.”
Bruce shook his head. “Thor, don’t worry about that right now.”
“You must, Banner!” he begged. “Loki… he hates being sick. Always has. He’ll never forgive me for this. And the others… please, Bannner, you must tell them how sorry I am.”
Looking at one of his closest friends pale and trembling with fatigue and sickness, Bruce agreed, if only to convince Thor to actually rest.
Within seconds, Thor’s breathing evened out, and he fell asleep.
“Dr. Banner,” JARVIS’s voice came quietly. “Miss Romanoff is awake.”
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and took a steadying breath.
This was going to be a long day.
——————————-
“Never let Thor in the kitchen again,” Natasha snapped as she groaned in pain between gags.
The Black Widow was currently leaning over a toilet bowl, clutching her midsection as if it would explode if she were to let go.
Every few seconds, she would either hiss or squeeze her eyes shut as her arms tightened around her abdomen, which Bruce knew to be a sign that her stomach was cramping.
Bruce stayed at a distance, holding a glass of water for her to rinse her mouth with.
He knew that while some of the Avengers needed someone to cling to in times of sickness, Natasha someone who would break your arm just for breathing to close in her general vicinity.
However, her temper seemed mainly directed towards Thor at the moment, and Bruce had no intention of becoming her next target.
“He said he’s sorry. It’s understandable that he messed something like that up, right?”
Natasha returned his question with an icy glare, so Bruce handed her the water and decided to let her feel whatever she needed to feel.
Unlike the male avengers, Natasha had a bathroom directly connected to her bedroom, meaning Bruce didn’t have to do much cleaning this time around.
She knelt in front of her toilet for a few minutes before carefully trying to stand.
“Need help?” Bruce asked as he closed the gap to steady her.
She began to answer no, but her face went white and she nearly fell into the tile wall, and she would’ve, had Bruce not caught her by the shoulders.
“Alright, Nat, let’s get you back in bed,” he said, though he wasn’t entirely sure that Natasha could fully hear him.
Usually, she loathed to have somebody telling her what to do, so it worried Bruce when she offered no resistance to him slinging her arm around his shoulder and guiding her back to her bed.
When he got her sitting atop her mattress, she looked up at him, her complexion taking on a slight shade of green.
Bruce barely got a bucket under her chin before she started vomiting again.
Since she had already rid her stomach of Thor’s failed attempt at cooking, not much came up this time.
“Don’t fight it, Nat. You’ll feel better soon,” he soothed her.
When she was done, she slumped back, wincing, out before her head hit the pillows.
Ensuring he wouldn’t wake her, Bruce gently draped a blanket over her, hoping to prevent her from growing cold.
He silently thanked God that he had had the sense to give every person in the tower their own blanket last Christmas, because apparently he was the only Avenger with any regard for health and wellness.
Since JARVIS hadn’t warned him of anyone else needing his immediate attention, Bruce decided his best chance of helping everyone would be to go to the kitchen and brainstorm.
He obviously wasn’t a medical doctor. Anything he knew about sickness or medicine came from things he happened to learn about while studying for his phds.
If he was going to have any chance of success, he needed to do what he did best and get a strict plan of action.
On the kitchen counter, Bruce found a pad of ruled papers that Steve used for shopping lists.
On each line, he wrote a different pair of initials and left space to add any notes he would need.
His finished list looked as follows:
T.O: nausea, emotional distress
N.R: nausea, abdominal pain
S.R:
T.S:
C.B:
L:
He clicked his pen closed and placed the pad in the pocket of his pajama pants, which he had completely forgotten he was still wearing.
“Hey, JARVIS, do I have time to change into- like- comfortable clothes?”
“No, Dr. Banner. Per your orders, I must inform you that Ms. Romanoff has woken and is experiencing considerable pain.
Bruce clenched his fist and sighed.
Of course she was.
He massaged his temples, already feeling a headache forming.
Bruce worried this would all be too much for him, that he’d Hulk out under the strain.
So, he did something he hadn’t in years.
He prayed.
“God, I need help. I know I’ve been radio silent since… well, everything… but I need Your help now. Give me the strength to tend to my friends as they need me, and please, please don’t let them die.”
———————————————————-
Hours later, JARVIS warned Bruce that “Mr. Stark and Mr. Barton are currently battling in the penthouse bathroom.”
With a desperate groan, Bruce hurried over, and before the door was even in sight, he could hear the two voices at each other’s throats.
“Move it, rich boy! I got here first!” Clint shouted as he attempted to knock Tony aside to reach the sink.
“It’s my tower, Robin Hood! My tower, my tap water!” Tony responded, his wit perfectly intact despite his illness. “You can go to the kitchen if you’re so thirsty!”
If he weren’t in the middle of nursing the world’s mightiest heroes through a mass outbreak of food poisoning, Bruce would have let himself laugh before separating the two.
Unfortunately, he didn’t exactly have the luxury of time.
Before he could even move, Tony was drinking water from the tap, and Clint was trying to get Tony out of the way and take some water for himself.
“You know it astounds me that you two manage to find the energy to fight even though you’re both sick out of your minds?”
Tony saw his lab partner standing cross-armed in the doorframe and let out a laugh of excitement.
“Bruce, I knew you’d come! Tell this Merry Man,” he smirked at his own nicknames but was hit by a sudden wave of coughing, “that it’s my penthouse, so he doesn’t have the right to anything.”
Bruce rolled his eyes. “Clint, you doing alright?”
Clint nodded, but just as quickly shook his head. He stumbled back over to the toilet and threw up, which Tony found somehow found the energy to laugh at.
When Clint looked back up, his eyes were red and his skin was nearly as white as the marble that decorated the room.
He wasn’t that kind of doctor, but Bruce knew when enough was enough.
“Alright, Clint, I’m gonna help you out, okay?”
He approached Clint slowly and placed a hand on his forehead, yanking it back as he found the archer to be burning up.
Tony saw this and gingerly made his way to Clint’s other side.
“I see… I see that Mr. Penthouse has decided… to descend his throne and mingle with us commoners…” he rasped between gasps.
Bruce was about to scold him, but Tony spoke first.
“Look, Legolas, you’re running a fever and, while my bathroom floors are quite beautiful, Brucie would agree with me that they’re not an ideal place to recover, so if I were you, I’d shut up and let us get you to a couch.”
To both of their surprise, Clint offered no further remark.
He allowed the two to guide him to his feet and walk him over to the living room sofa, though Bruce was carrying most of Clint’s weight.
As they guided him onto the cushions, JARVIS suggested that Bruce bring everyone something to eat.
“As a reminder, it should be something easily digestible, such as toast or broth, so as to not trigger any nausea.”
Tony, who was sitting on the floor against the couch, found this hilarious.
“Look at you, Bruce! You’re a doctor, you stopped a fight, and now you’re donning your chef’s hat. I couldn’t be prouder!”
“I’m not that kind of doctor, Tony,” he grumbled as Tony choked on his own laughter, “I just happen to be the only Avenger who isn’t currently sick.”
After ensuring Clint was as comfortable as possible, Bruce went about making six slices of toast.
Bruce didn’t love waiting for each individual slice to warm, as the silence left his mind racing at fifty miles a minute.
“Hey, JARVIS, can you check on Cap?”
“Mr. Rogers is still asleep. He shows no signs of being disturbed soon.”
“Right, okay good. How about Loki?”
“Mr. Loki is currently pacing. Shall I implore him to stop?”
“Please do.”
As Bruce placed the last two slices of bread into the toaster, he pulled out his list and added some notes.
T.O: nausea, emotional distress
N.R: nausea, abdominal pain
S.R: asleep
T.S: nausea, insults in tact
C.B: nausea, fever, stubborn as ever
L: pacing
“Wow, you even got a list and everything! You missed your calling, Doctor.”
Bruce turned around and gave Tony a death stare, prompting the billionaire to raise his hands and mouth sorry.
The ding of the toaster pulled Bruce’s attention, and he removed the toasted slices and placed them each on their own plate.
Along side each plate, he filled six glasses with room temperature water about halfway.
He put two plates and two glasses on a tray and brought the meals to Tony and Clint.
“You don’t have to finish, just eat as much as you feel comfortable with,” he instructed them.
Tony inspected the glass and toast as if they had a personal vendetta against him.
Clint noticed this and scoffed. “Tony, just eat the dang toast. It’s not that hard.”
Tony cast him a side eye, but took a good bite of his food.
Bruce let himself smile watching them return slightly to normal, but then remembered he had four other stops to make and went on his way.
—————————————————————————————————————-
The first three trips proved to be easier than Bruce had anticipated.
Steve, because of the serum, wasn’t experiencing any pain or nausea, just a heavy fatigue. Bruce decided that it wasn’t worth it to wake Steve just yet, so he left the toast and water on his bedside table.
Natasha’s cramps had lessened severely, but she was hesitant to try eating anything. Bruce, to his credit, didn’t force her.
“I’ll leave it there in case you change your mind,” he told her.
The red-headed avenger nodded her thanks, and Bruce left her to continue laying down.
And finally, Thor, being Thor, was already much recovered.
His eyes had lit up when he saw Bruce enter his bedroom with something for him to eat, and Bruce had to stop him from downing the glass of water in one swig.
“But, Banner, my throat aches from dryness, and you have just handed me the cure! How could you possibly expect me to sip at it like a bird pecking at water?!”
“Thor, if you drink it too quickly, it will come back up,” Bruce explained patiently, using his hands to make a gesture of throwing up so the Asgardian would understand his words. “I’m only trying to help.”
Thor sighed. “I know, Banner. It still pains me that my foolishness brought about this wretched disease…”
“I already told you not to worry about that right now. Besides, most of the people I’ve seen to today haven’t even mentioned it.”
Thor quirked up an eyebrow. “Most?”
“Well… Natasha wasn’t so pleased to say the least, but she’ll come around.”
He winced, but seemed to accept the doctor’s answer.
“What about Loki?”
Bruce froze. He hadn’t seen Loki yet, nor had JARVIS guven him any updates about Loki’s condition.
“I…I haven’t seen him yet,” Bruce responded remorsefully. “But he’s my last stop for food delivery, so I’ll check on him while I’m there.”
Thor nodded quietly. “I see…” he said at length.
He didn’t talk much after that, so Bruce went back for the last tray and headed towards Loki’s door.
——————————————————-
To say that Bruce had been dreading this would be an understatement.
The truth is, he had been terrified to come within six feet of Loki’s room.
Sure, Loki had joined their side and become a valuable asset to the team, but unlike the other five, Bruce had never seen Loki ill before. He wasn’t sure whether he’d find the trickster lethargic like Steve tended to be or violent like Natasha occasionally became.
Either way, he had avoided this for long enough.
The door was, to Bruce’s surprise and concern, unlocked, so the scientist nudged the door open with his foot and silently stepped inside.
Loki, despite being wrapped in what looked like three different blankets, was shaking violently on his bed.
When the younger Odinson brother saw Bruce setting down the plate and drawing nearer to him, his face turned into a scowl.
“Leave.”
Bruce noted that Loki’s voice was gravelly, and he could practically hear the strain the one word had caused him.
He looked from Loki to the plate and back at Loki, hoping he would eat the toast or at least try and hydrate.
Instead, Loki outright refused.
“Leave me be, Banner. It’s bad enough-“ he fell into a violent fit of coughing, and Bruce placed a bucket under his chin just as Loki began to dry-heave.
Bruce’s hand shook with the both the effort of keeping the bucket upright and the slight fear that Loki would snap at him.
He decided to distract himself by analyzing Loki’s condition.
Loki wasn’t actually vomiting, so Bruce deducted that he must have already emptied his stomach earlier in the day.
But, where is the mess, and why didn’t JARVIS tell him?
Firstly, Bruce could see from Loki’s eyes that there was a deep exhaustion present.
Not the lack of sleep kind of exhaustion.
No, it was worse than that, and there was only one plausible cause.
Loki must have cleaned the mess up himself.
“JARVIS, why didn’t you alert me when Loki got sick?” Bruce asked as Loki leaned back against his bed frame.
JARVIS didn’t give an answer, but as Bruce went to address the AI again, Loki enlightened him.
“Don’t bother, Banner. I’ve already messed with the wires and prevented that… thing from spying on me.”
Bruce’s jaw fell open. “You did what?!”
Loki cringed at the volume. “I won’t repeat myself.”
Bruce ran his hand through his hair as he set the bucket aside.
For some reason, Loki disabled JARVIS in his room.
“But why?”
Why today?
Why not let JARVIS see him sick?
Why not let JARVIS help-
“You’re afraid,” Bruce realized aloud.
Loki, for all his sarcasm and independence, averted his gaze and remained silent.
That explains the shaking.
This was the probably his first time experiencing an Earthly sickness, and it was certainly his first time getting sick in front of the Avengers.
How could Bruce have missed this?
“You didn’t want the team to see you vulnerable. You didn’t want us to have to take care of you. You didn’t want us to think that you were weak.”
No reply.
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
Loki slowly looked back and nodded weakly.
“I’m not a midgardian. To be struck down by some… mortal ailment… it is unbecoming.”
Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, causing the mattress to dip under his weight.
“Loki, you never had to deal with this alone. And, no, before you even try, you’re not weak for getting sick. You have what we call food poisoning.”
The Jotun looked up in fear.
“Poison?! How could this have happened under Stark’s roof?! What buffoon tried to murder me-“
“Loki!” Bruce interrupted his spiral, leaning in closer so Loki would focus on him. “It’s not an actual poison. Thor accidentally cooked spoiled potatoes at dinner yesterday, and as a result everyone who ate got sick.”
The newest tower resident gained a murderous spark in his eye, but he clearly didn’t have the energy to plot revenge.
“Of course. Leave it to Thor make such an idiotic mistake,” he muttered.
Bruce got off the mattress and place the tray on Loki’s lap.
The latter eyed the toast suspiciously, but took a greedy sip of water.
As Loki became comfortable and ventured to try the toast, Bruce asked the question that had been burning on his mind.
“Loki, why didn’t you let JARVIS ask me to help you?”
He paused and swallowed the small bite he was working on, and answered with a sigh.
“You shouldn’t have come, Banner. I’m trouble. Trouble isn’t worth wasting time on.”
Bruce thought for a moment. He wasn’t great with words, and he didn’t do a whole lot of comforting.
He knew Steve or even Thor would do a better job than he, but neither of them were an option.
“I used to think the same way. Sometimes… I still do.”
Loki eyed the doctor as he continued.
“The Other Guy… he causes a lot, and I mean a lot, of trouble and damage and hurt. I thought that meant that I wasn’t worthy of anything good. When I joined the Avengers, they showed me genuine care. It felt like I had found a family. Even when I screwed up or when the Hulk went rogue, they never treated me like a monster.”
He looked Loki in the eye.
“They taught me that I deserve care just like anybody else. You’re not an exception, Loki. Your past doesn’t matter now. You’re one of us, and we don’t abandon one of our own. So, please, let me help you.”
Bruce watched as a tear made its way from Loki’s eye down the side of his face.
“Thank you, Bruce…” he choked out.
Bruce smiled warmly and sat with him, working to get JARVIS back online as the god finished his meal and drifted into a restful sleep.
“Hey, JARVIS, you back with me?” he called quietly.
“Yes, Dr. Banner. My sincerest apologies.”
Bruce waved the system off and took Loki’s empty tray back to the kitchen.
For the first time that day, Banner got the feeling that his friends were going to be okay.
———————
“Bruce.”
Bruce woke to someone tapping his cheek lightly and calling his name.
It wasn’t the voice of JARVIS, and anyways JARVIS wasnt programmed with the ability to smack people.
Yet.
Bruce opened his eyes and saw Steve leaning over him, looking slightly worried.
“Cap…?” he groaned, pushing himself up. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not too sure, but JARVIS tells me that Thor gave us some pretty nasty food poisoning.”
“For the last time, I am truly sorry!” Thor’s voice boomed once more from down the hall.
Steve laughed, amused by Thor’s apology, but quickly turned his attention back to Bruce.
“Anyways, I woke up this morning and I found you asleep on the kitchen floor, near the sink. JARVIS said you overexerted yourself taking care of all of us, so I brought you here so you could get some actual rest.”
Bruce looked around and realized he was in his own bedroom. He didn’t remember falling asleep or even feeling exhausted.
Must have been my adrenaline crashing he figured.
“I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean to be a bother when you just recovered.”
“You kidding?” Steve replied with a kind laugh. “You’re always taking care of us, so it’s an honor for me to get to do something for you!”
A wave of relief washed over Bruce, and a warmth settled in his chest.
“How are the others?” he asked as he let his back rest against his pillows.
“They’re just fine, Bruce. Loki’s asleep, and Clint and Tony are trying to keep Nat from beating Thor over the head. They’re just a little extra tired.”
Steve clapped his hand on Bruce’s shoulder and squeezed it.
“Seriously, for not being “that kind of doctor”, you did a great job. Just get some rest now, alright?”
Bruce nodded, his eyelids slowly shutting on their own accord.
He fell back to sleep, treasuring the thought that God came through for him, and that his friends were going to be just fine.